


boys over flowers: seiseki edition

by SerpentineJ



Category: DAYS (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Boys Over Flowers, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 16:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9080815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerpentineJ/pseuds/SerpentineJ
Summary: Shibakimi, Boys Over Flowers AU.feat. Ooshiba Kiichi as the rich son of the leader of the Seiseki Group, the nation's largest business conglomerate, with attitude problems and intimacy issues as tall as he is, and Kimishita Atsushi as the heir apparent to the mantle of Kimishita's Dry Cleaning, a short person with a shorter temper whose chance encounter with a customer leads to his receiving a scholarship to the country's best high school- Seiseki Academy.





	

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: based off the ko ver, bc the original kdrama is always better.
> 
> boys over flowers is maybe one of the best known kdramas, and the mc and the endgame guy have a dynamic VERY similar to shibakimi: actually, 95% of this dialogue and plot is going to be pulled directly from the drama, so if u havent watched it and have a few hours to kill, id highly recommend checking out this (or at least the first 5 eps) and you're beautiful, aka the best kdrama of all time.
> 
> i guess pretend this is a world where gay relationships have been completely normalised bc i dont think i can write a coming out storyline on top of all this (though i guess it could be folded into the existing "she's poor he's rich" storyline)
> 
> please forgive the hasty exposition, some plot-setting is required before getting into the character-driven part of the story.

[ BREAKING: Seiseki Group selected to be largest corporate sponsor of 2016 Olympics]

Since Japan's economic growth began to take off, Seiseki has maintained the status of the most dominant company in the country, expanding their operations and reaching the level of a multinational renowned corporation. If you are a resident of Japan, you know the characters that make up "Seiseki" before you know the President of the country's name. The Seiseki group has created a kingdom as Japan's largest conglomerate.

On the day they achieved the milestone of increasing their imports by one billion Yen, during a celebratory ceremony with the President of Japan, the founder of the company, instead of receiving a medal, said, "Sir, please allow me to build a school which my grandchildren could attend."

And Seiseki Academy was born.

The first school in the history of Japan to be personally backed by the President, Seiseki Academy is a school by the 1%, for the 1%, and has maintained the reputtion of the top elite school in the nation. Most common people, even if they apply right after birth, cannot gain admission to Seiseki Kindergarden, but if they are accepted, their way is paved through the entirety of their education, even university admissions. An admission to Seiseki Academy is a subject of jealousy and awe for the rest of the nation's students and parents, who suffer from difficult applications to universities.

However, in this Seiseki Academy, at this very moment, something unimaginable was happening.

~~~~~~

A quivering hand.

The boy slides the key hesitantly into the slot on his locker, something clearly weighing on his mind. Apprehensive.

The door swings open.

F4.

At eye-level, taped to the rung that ran between the locker walls- a card, accusingly red, marked with a skull and crossbones and those fateful characters.

F4.

"Ah, jeez," a voice calls out from behind him, mocking, "Daichi, what are we gonna do with you?"

Another kid pats him on the shoulder. Daichi looks around, from the corner of his eye, sees more kids starting to gather in a mob around him. The grip on his shoulder turns purposeful.

The kid pulls him into another one of his friends, who kicks him in the stomach.

This is bad, he thinks. Two other guys restrain his arms.

~~~~~~

"Er..." The security guard calls out the window of his booth, "What's the reason for your visit?"

Kimishita Atsushi, second-year at a local high school, restrains his scowl of annoyance.

"Delivery." He says instead, gesturing to the hanger of clothes tied to the back of his bicycle. "From Kimishita Dry-Cleaner's."

The security guard eyes him doubtfully for a moment, but shrugs and leans back to push a button. The barrier in front of Kimishita raises, and he waves to the guard, saying a quick "thank you," kicking off and pedalling again.

~~~~~~

Daichi kicks another guy in the stomach and tries to run.

He's bleeding from several spots in the head, he can tell from the warm stickiness running down his cheek. His guts feel like they've been scrambled. 

~~~~~~

Kimishita, carrying what looks like a spare uniform over his shoulder, sighs in resignation.

"This school is way too damn big." He mutters.

A boy runs past him.

"Daichi is on the roof!" The kid hollers, hand to his mouth. "The roof!"

Kimishita pauses.

Daichi?

~~~~~~

"I told you that guy wouldn't last." One guy snickers, leaning on his friend's shoulder. "It hasn't even been a week."

"Yeah, but it's been three days." The other guy shrugs. "That's decent."

Daichi stares at the four-story drop under his bare feet.

He turns.

"This is what you guys want, right?" He asks, spiteful, bitter. "Fine. I'll give you what you want."

The blood is cooled on his face.

He shifts his weight forward.

One move...

"Customer!"

~~~~~~

"Customer!"

Kimishita shouts, pushing through the crows.

"Daichi!"

The boy standing on the high ledge of the roof looks around, frowning.

"Me?" He asks.

Kimishita gets to the front of the crowd and pants, resting his left hand on his knee, right busy with the hangar with the uniform slung over his shoulder.

"Yeah, you!" He says, catching his breath. 

Daichi blinks, taken aback. His brows furrow.

"Who-" He says. "Who are you?"

Kimishita lets out a noise, straightening his back.

"Me?" He pants. "Speaking for myself, I've come to deliver your clothes!"

Daichi stares at him.

"Kimishita Dry-Cleaners," He continues, "that's 3000 Yen!"

The kid lets out a disbelieving breath and looks back out over the school campus he can see from his place on the ledge. He can't quite see his breath, because it's only autumn, but the chill permeates his bones.

Kimishita scowls, squinting his eyes at him.

"Fine," he says, "2500 Yen, but you had better become a regular, or I'll find you and-"

Daichi interuptps him.

"When I'm dead," He replies, deadpan, looking back at him, "you can bill it to my family."

Kimishita blinks in shock.

"You're gonna die now?" He exclaims, a glare settling across his face. "No way in hell!"

"This school..." Daichi mutters, turning back to the ledge, "this school is hell."

Kimishita scoffs, affronted, "As if! Real hell is outside this school, dumbass! It's university admission tests and working for bad pay, you rich dickhead!"

Daichi turns his head back, drawing his brows together.

(The audience is watching their conversation with rapt interest.)

"Have you heard of F4?" He asks bitterly.

Kimishita blinks.

"F-" He says, "F...4?"

Daichi chuckles.

"The moment you get an F4 red card," Daichi replies, glaring at a point in space across the roof, "you become prey for the entire school."

Kimishita squints at him.

"You can't lie down and take it, you dumbass!" He exclaims. "It's always the lame losers who walk around like they're the shit. If it were my school, I would have grabbed them and... snapped their necks!"

He gestures violently with his hands, and Daichi laughs despite himself.

"Your friends are lucky." He says, smiling. "To have a friend like you."

Kimishita raises his eyebrows.

"Eh?" Is all he can say, before Daichi disappears.

He blinks.

"Oh, hell no!" He shouts, sprinting forwards, managing to grab Daichi's jacket by the back, shouting in pain when the exertion overstretches his arm- despite that, he yells and pulls Daichi back up and over the ledge by the jacket and depositing him on the floor of the roof.

"You can't die!" He crosses his arms. "You owe me 2500 Yen, asshole!"

Daichi blinks up at him.

~~~~~~

[BREAKING: Brave Common Student, Who Is He?]

[BREAKING: Aristocratic Elite School Seiseki Academy's Near-Murder?]

Seiseki Academy's rampant group bullying- the savior is an average Superboy.

What's going on in the best high school in the nation, Seiseki Academy?

The boy who saved the student being severely bullied by his classmates at Seiseki Academy is neither rich nor coming from an affluent family...

~~~~~~

**NEW COMMENT:**

_It was only an ordinary boy who happened to be delivering dry-cleaning!_

_Those spoiled kids who are exempt from entrance exams... if you don't have anything better to do, take the exams!_

**NEW COMMENT:**

_theres only so far special privilege can go!! seiseki grp, confess!!!!_

**NEW COMMENT:**

_As a mother with a child, this is unforgivable. Starting from tomorrow, let's boycott Seiseki Supermarket._

~~~~~~

"I'm here where people are protesting against the Seiseki Group and the special education system..."

The newscaster's voice is drowned out by the chant of protesters, coming in tinny through the television speakers. 

Kimishita is wiping down a table. This is his second job- a yakisoba place down the street from his house, run by a friend of a friend.

"Shut that off!" He yells when he can't take it anymore, throwing his dishrag at Inohara, who's standing behind the counter.

"Kimishita, Kimishita!" Haibara, a year older than him and half a head shorter, shouts with a grin. "Have you seen what they're writing about you in the papers?"

Kimishita scowls.

"I don't want to." He grouses.

"Common hero," Haibara reads aloud anyways from the phone in his hand, "Superboy, you are our generation's true hero. Kimishita Dry-Cleaners, fight! Superboy to Seiseki High!"

Inohara laughs.

"Kimishita-kun's more like Batman." He chuckles, and Kimishita makes a vaguely violent gesture at him.

"Shut up!" He raises his voice.

Inohara and Haibara fall back, snickering.

Tsukamoto comes out of the back, presumably finishing doing the dishes, wiping his hands, and smiles at him.

"I think what you did was very admirable, Kimishita-senpai!" He says, beaming.

"Shut up." Kimishita repeats, a black look on his face, and makes his way to the front of the very empty store.

"I wonder if the F4 are really all that great, though." Inohara says, breaking the silence. 

Kimishita scowls.

"Flower Four?" He mutters. "More like Fly Four. They herd around piles of shit."

Haibara smothers his laughter.

The flash of cameras comes from the shop's front window.

Kimishita looks up.

"Kimishita-kun!"

Shit.

"Look over here!"

~~~~~~

"I mean, is that school a school for the gifted?" A man on the television at the protest asks angrily. "It's not even a foreign language school or a science school, like it says, but a school for the rich! And isn't Japan a republic? Those kinds of bourgeoisie schools should just-"

The television powers off.

From behind her desk, CEO Ooshiba Akira sighs.

"This is an issue, isn't it." She breathes. The magazine on her desk is open to a page titled, "Superboy Of Korea: Kimishita Atsushi!"

The door to her opulent office opens.

"I'm sorry." The family assistant says, coming forwards. "Right now, the Seiseki PR team is working with the media to-"

Akira clicks her tongue.

"They're not working fast enough." She says bluntly, with the force of the CEO of the nation's largest conglomerate. "We need to find a quicker way to stop this from blowing up even more than it already has."

Assistant Tenma nods.

"This cannot affect Kiichi's future." Akira continues, frowning. "The public are insatiable, irrational people... the one who started the fire must be the one to extinguish it."

A girl comes out from behind Assistant Tenma.

"CEO," she says politely, "the Premiere is on the phone for you."

Akira takes it.

"Yes, this is Ooshiba Akira speaking." She says calmly, professionally. "Yes, the events unfolding are more complex than we previously thought..."

~~~~~~

Kimishita skids to a stop in front of his building on his bike.

"God..." He mutters, dismounting and straightening his bag over his shoulder. "Avoiding the journalists is such a waste of time."

He grabs his bike by the handlebars, wheeling it into Kimishita Dry-Cleaners.

"Seiseki Academy..." He spits. "Every time I think about that place, I feel sick."

He doesn't notice the line of black cars stretching down the street.

~~~~~~

"Atsushi!" His dad jumps up from where he's seated- across from another man, a man in a black suit Kimishita doesn't recognise.

"Eh?" He drops his bag on the floor and walks to the table. "Dad, what's going on?"

His dad's hands flutter, and he's wearing a beaming grin- nothing drastically bad, then, but the things his dad gets excited about are extraordinarily dangerous.

"Allow me to introduce myself." The man in black inclines his head. "I am Assistant Tenma-"

"He's from the Seiseki CEO!" Kimishita Sr. exclaims in earnest.

Kimishita blinks in surprise.

"I didn't push that guy." He says immediately, looking suspiciously at the suited man. "It was those other guys- the F4-"

Assistant Tenma chuckles in a way that sets Kimishita's nerves even more on edge, even though there's nothing averse about the gesture itself- it's more the feeling that what he's going to say next is not something Kimishita wants to hear.

"No, it's not that." Assistant Tenma smiles. "I've come today-"

Kimishita Sr. butts in again, seemingly too excited to hold back his instincts- he's still beaming, and it makes Kimishita want to smack him upside the head.

"They're offering you a place at Seiseki Academy!" He says.

There's a moment of silence as the two men watch for Kimishita's reaction.

"No way." Kimishita replies after only a beat. "Sorry, Mr... Tenma, but I don't want your charity money-"

Kimishita's dad looks at him.

"It's not charity!" He says, still looking eager. "Assistant Tenma says they want to offer you a soccer scholarship, Atsushi!"

Kimishita stiffens.

Soccer...

"Didn't you say you wanted to go to a high school with a soccer pitch?" Kimishita Sr. wheedles.

Kimishita scowls.

"Do I look like the kind of person who can be bought with a soccer pitch?" He asks reluctantly, because the idea of playing soccer again... of feeling the wind in his hair and the number 10 on his back and the clutch of new cleats tied tight on his feet...

He shakes his head.

"No way." He repeats.

Assistant Tenma bows his head slightly, still smiling slightly.

"I hope you will reconsider." He says.

~~~~~~

"I'm not going." Kimishita crosses his arms.

Kimishita's dad blinks.

"You're not?" He asks.

Kimishita shakes his head.

"Nope." He says.

~~~~~~

Of course, Kimishita ends up attending Seiseki Academy anyways.

~~~~~~

"Goddamnit, Dad..." Kimishita mutters, pulling uncomfortably at the collar of the starched uniform suit he's wearing, undoubtedly the most expensive piece of clothing he's owned in his live. "You don't have to-"

"It's my son's first day at the prestigious Seiseki Academy!" Kimishita Senior crows, hands loose on the steering wheel of their dry-cleaner's van.

"You look ridiculous." Kimishita sighs. "Which customer did you 'borrow' that suit from?"

They pull up in front of that damned building- as rich and ostentatious as ever, moneyed-looking students flocking towards the main entrance- and Kimishita Sr. says, "wait, wait!" with an eager look on his face and scrambles to get out of the van and to the other side, opening the door on Kimishita's side and bowing.

"Young sir." He says, smiling.

Kimishita flushes, embarrassed, and gets out of the van, the handle of his book-bag gripped tightly in his hand.

"Fine, I'm going." He mutters. "Have a good day-"

Kimishita Sr. shuts the door behind him- a little too eagerly, as it turns out, because it jostles something in the van.

"DRY CLEANING!!!"

It's the dry-cleaning van, after all.

"DRY CLEANING!!!"

Kimishita resists the urge to cover his face with his hands.

It's not that he cares overly much about what the rich dickheads here think of him, but he'd prefer to stay as under-the-radar as possible in this strange new world, not to mention his dad seems to think the world of Seiseki Academy- he'd probably waste the entire day feeling bad about embarrassing Kimishita at school instead of focusing on manning the shop and drawing in more customers...

"KIMISHITA DRY-CLEANING!"

So much for staying under the radar.

With a harried wave, Kimishita Sr. drives off.

Kimishita sighs.

~~~~~~

He's been told today is an introductory day, where he'll familiarise himself with the campus over the first half of the day and attend class in the second, so he pulls the map brochure out of his pocket and squints at it, rotating it in hopes of it making more sense.

First things first, he decides. The soccer pitch.

~~~~~~

He wanders around for half an hour, looking for that familiar span of green, green grass, scowling increasingly at the paper in his hand. Useless. How fucking big is this school, anyways? Why would a school possibly need more than two auditoriums, or three dining halls?

He hears the familiar sound of a ball catching in the back of a net.

Kimishita pumps his fist- finally! Victory! The soccer pitch!- before realising the fact that he can hear that sound is because there's someone else there.

Isn't class going on right now?

He trucks through the rest of the fall foliage, because apparently the only way to the soccer pitch is through ten minutes worth of forest trail.

As he thought. There is someone there.

He's struck by the instinct to tell them off for skipping class, because even if you're rich, there's no excuse, but before he can do more than open his mouth, he's stopped by the scene unfolding in front of his eyes.

The guy looks like a third-year. He's got a shock of messy black hair, cut in a way that seems more for convenience than anything else, and the black Seiseki kit is bold over his well-built frame. Even from this far away, Kimishita can tell there's incredible power in the guy's kicks, can almost feel the stretch of tendons when he twists his entire body to send another ball out of his lineup speeding into the net with enough impact to leave Kimishita breathless.

A forward.

Figures.

The guy turns around.

"Ah." Kimishita flushes, embarrassed to be caught staring. "Sorry, do you know if there's another soccer pitch here?"

The guy cocks his head and gestures to his right- and yeah, when Kimishita squints, he can see the green of another soccer pitch through a thin screen of trees.

"Uh." Kimishita says. "Thanks."

The guy nods.

"Go..." Kimishita hesitates, "back to what you were doing, I guess. Sorry to bother you."

(It's not like he doesn't know how to be courteous, he thinks of his own uncharacteristic behavior. Plus, there's something about the guy that grabs his attention.)

Kimishita makes his way to the other pitch, and spends the rest of the morning feeling the grass under his shoes, reveling in the pull of a blue, blue sky over the field.

~~~~~~

He has his first encounter with the F4 when he heads back to the school after the bell for the end of the first block rings.

Kimishita sighs and slings his bag over his shoulder. He's a little tired from doing a quick set of laps around the field, since he had brought his gym sneakers but not his cleats or a ball to kick around (and he had considered going over to ask that guy if he could borrow a ball, but had decided against it,) but in a good way, a light burn settling into his calves.

"It's F4!!"

Someone- a girl with a high-pitched voice' shrieks behind him.

Despite himself, he turns in curiosity- Kimishita doesn't actually know who the F4... well, are- and decides to take a look, to better round out his judgement.

There's already a cluster of students by the entrance.

The door swings open.

The first guy to stride through the doors is obviously the leader. Over 6 foot, red hair, artfully mussed, a smug look on his face and a designer suit tailored to him, walking with the confidence of someone who's been given everything they've ever wanted.

Kimishita hates him on sight.

The other three follow behind him. A gray-haired third-year in a cream cardigan who smiles indulgently at the crowd, a grinning kid with long, blond hair who blows a kiss at a gaggle of girls, and-

That guy.

Kimishita stares.

He looks... well, not unassuming- he's changed into what looks like a white linen suit, which puts Kimishita immediately on edge, but the way he walks and the way his eyes float among the cluster of people gathered around them, somehow thoughtful and opaque at the same time, makes him wonder. He doesn't walk with the swagger of the leader or the energy of the blond guy, or even the quiet satisfaction of the gray-haired guy...

It's more like internal confidence.

Kimishita's attention focuses on him.

The F4 stop in front of one poor kid.

The red-haired guy- the dickhead, Kimishita labels him- cocks his head in mock consideration.

"I'll give you five seconds." He smirks.

The kid blinks up at him.

"Wh-" He stammers, "What?"

Dickhead sighs.

"Four." He continues. "Three. Two. One..."

He reaches out and grabs the kid's lapel.

Upon closer inspection, it's the same shirt Dickhead is wearing under his designer suit. The kid's eyes widen in understanding, then panic, and he begins to stutter a series of what sounds like apologies, explanations, and various sounds of fear-

Dickhead stops him.

"Usui." He calls to his friend behind him without looking away. "Still got any of that juice?"

The gray-haired guy- Usui, apparently- shrugs.

"Yeah." He says, carefully noncommittal, that small smile still sitting on his lips. "Want me to give it to you?"

Dickhead makes an affirmative noise and reaches his hand out behind him, wich Usui presses a half-empty bottle of what looks like cranberry juice into.

Dickhead wastes no time- he presses back the kid's suit lapel and pours the bright red juice over the kid's shirt, and damn, Kimishita knows that stain is going to be nearly impossible to get out- and drops the now-empty bottle in the kid's slack hand. The kid's friends gather 'round to comfort him, but shy away from the intimidating redhead. Dickhead smirks in satisfaction and turns around, cutting through the rest of the crowd and disappearing up the stairs, his entourage following.

It looks like his judgement of character is spot-on, Kimishita fumes internally.

"What a crazy bastard!" He says, probably too loudly, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Are all these people on mute or something? Why are they just standing there and not doing anything?"

A voice comes from behind him.

"Oh my God..."

He turns around.

"I can't believe what I'm hearing."

Three guys are standing in front of him.

Kimishita frowns.

"Who are you guys?" He asks bluntly.

The guy who'd spoken before, presumably the leader, rolls his eyes dramatically.

"Us?" He scoffs, as though Kimishita's an idiot for not knowing what he's talking about. He taps his forehead in mock remembrance. "Oh, we haven't introduced ourselves yet."

Kimishita's eyes narrow.

The guy next to him grins.

"We are..."

The leader turns to the side and puts his hand on his hip, prompting a look of equal parts confusion and surprise from Kimishita.

"Indou."

The guy on his right twirls his finger and points up, smiling.

"Taira."

The guy on his left sticks his hands in his pockets and throws back his shoulders.

"Shuuji."

Kimishita blinks.

"That said," the guy in the middle- Indou- continues, focusing on Kimishita again, "when you said crazy [beeping] somethng, you weren't referring to our F4, were you, scholarship student?"

Kimishita frowns.

"So the dickheads who publicly humiliated that kid," he says, pointing at the way the F4 had gone, "that was really the infamous F4?"

Shuuji's mouth drops open in comical faux-shock. 

Taira rolls his eyes and says, "Infamous? More like famous!"

Kimishita looks at him.

"If you don't watch your mouth," Taira continues, "you're gonna be in big trouble. You guys own a Landromat."

Kimishita faux-smiles.

"Not a Laundromat." He corrects him, faking niceties. "Dry cleaning."

Indou laughs.

Kimishita focuses on him, voice taking on a sharper edge.

"What about it?" He asks, almost threatening.

Shuuji leans forward to peer into his face.

"It's my first time looking at a dry-cleaner's son." He muses mockingly, crossing his arms. "It's so fascinating."

Kimishita pastes his customer service smile on.

"Look all you like." He says sarcastically. "I won't charge you."

Indou scoffs at him. Taira takes out a hand mirror and checks his reflection.

"Since it's your first day here," Indou says graciously, haughtily, "and you're a clueless common boy, we'll let it slide."

Kimishita blinks.

"What?"

Shuuji clicks his tongue.

"Speaking ill of the F4!" He says, as though it should be obvious, leaving Kimishita even more surprised.

"What, I can't do that?" He says incredulously, a little hostility creeping into his voice. "I mean, what's so great about them?"

The gang scoffs at him, flapping their wrists and batting their eyes, like he's completely crazy.

"This kid's beyond help." Indou sighs. "Let's go, guys."

They flounce off in a distinctly confusing manner.

Kimishita blinks after them.

What a weird school.

~~~~~~

Kimishita's second encounter with F4 is during lunch.

He can't bring himself to care when a boy rushes into the mess hall, shouting, "it's F4!! F4!!", watching as the rest of the students scream and flock immedietally to the entrance. He takes another bite of his lunchbox.

"Hey."

There's a voice from above him.

Kimishita looks up.

"Why does your lunch smell so bad?"

It's the Indou gang.

Scowling, Kimishita bites through another rolled omelette. It smells normal. It's these rich bastards who have lost their minds.

"Transfer student," says one of the boys- Shuuji?- snottily, crossing his arms, "why are you eating such a terrible lunchbox?" He gestures flamboyantly towards the extravagant buffet table across the lunchroom.

Kimishita rolls his eyes and swallows his food.

"I see it." He mutters, scowling.

Indou scoffs at him.

"Then why?" He asks, hands on his hips, blazer mysteriously sliding down to his elbows. What a dumb look.

"Do I look like someone who can afford a 5000 yen lunch?" Kimishita takes another angry bite of his food. Why do these guys keep following him around? Do they get anything out of it, besides a brief sense of superiority?

Taira snickers.

"Then you're planning on finishing that foul stuff?" He smirks. Kimishita has the suddenly overwhelming urge to pick him up and throw him into the nearest wall, but restrains himself.

"I'm planning on it." He spits.

Shuuji takes out a handheld can of cologne and spritzes it over the area Kimishita is eating in- quick as a flash, he protects his food with two outstretched arms from the falling chemical.  
That's foul, he thinks, but doesn't say anything. Stay under the radar, he reminds himself, and placates his eager fist with the satisfaction of a nasty glare.

"It's F4!"

A girl screams.

Shuuji looks up, eyes wide, and shoves Indou.

"Kaoru!" He exclaims. "Come on, hurry!"

They finally leave Kimishita alone to join the flock of people swarming the F4.

He never thought he'd be slightly glad to hear of the approach of that gang of dicks, but Kimishita finds himself relieved that the pests are gone.

"Uh..."

A voice.

A voice?

"Can I... try one of those?"

Kimishita blinks, looks up.

It's another student.

He smiles at Kimishita. 

~~~~~~

"Please come again!"

Tsukamoto's eager voice alerts Kimishita, who's clearing dishes off a nearby table, to the only remaining customer in the shop leaving.

"Thank you!" He calls after them, as polite and proffessional as ever, and buses the dirty dishes over the store counter to Inohara in the kitchen.

Tsukamoto comes up behind him.

"Kimishita-senpai," he says, loud and cheerful, grinning like an idiot, "I heard you made a friend in Seiseki! Congratulations!"

Kimishita turns around slowly, letting the black glare have a moment to settle over his face.

"To be honest, senpai," Tsukamoto continues, oblivious to the impending destruction that follows after angering Kimishita, "I was worried you'd be a loner! You know, because all the people there are so rich, and you're not-"

He finally opens his eyes.

"-ah-" He starts, automatically putting his hands in front of him, "-I mean, it's good you found a friend so quickly-"

It doesn't help. Kimishita clenches his jaw.

Haibara-senpai's damn mouth.

"I am a loner." He scowls. "Thank God those dickheads don't pay attention to me. I'm planning on stuffing myself into a corner until goddamn graduation. What a mess."

Tsukamoto blinks at him.

"Kimishita-senpai!" He exclaims, stepping one foot forwards, balling his hands into fists. Ah, he has that stupidly determined look on his face again. "You can't do that!"

Kimishita glares at him.

"Ah? Why not?" He retorts. "Don't tell me what to do, Tsukamoto!"

"Because!" Tsukamoto, unsurprisingly, because he's so goddamn dumb, doesn't back down. "Because you're Kimishita-senpai! Kimishita-senpai stopped the SGA kids from bullying me in kindergarten, and beat up the student who tried to mug me in middle school because I was an easy target-"

Kimishita rushes to cover Tsukamoto's mouth with his hand.

"Shut up, moron!" He hisses, checking to see if Haibara or Inohara has overheard them. "I told you, since that kid spent a night in the hospital- even though I didn't beat him up that bad!- you can't tell people I did that!" 

Tsukamoto nods vigorously. Slowly, Kimishita takes his hand away.

"But you can't hide, Kimishita-senpai!" Tsukamoto insists. Damn, this is getting annoying.

Kimishita rubs his forehead in exasperation.

"Why not?" He sighs. "Besides, it's not like I did those things because I'm a good person, you knucklehead! You've been following me around since I told off those SGA assholes! You run to me whenever you get in any trouble, which reflects badly on me!"

Tsukamoto shakes his head.

"I think you're a good person, Kimishita-senpai!" He repeats. Loudly. This kid is always so damn loud. "You stopped to help a kindergartener, even though you were in first grade-"

Kimishita claps his hand over the other boy's mouth again.

"Can we stop talking about this?" He explodes. "This was ages ago! And it has nothing to do with what's happening now!"

Tsukamoto nods again.

Kimishita, reluctantly, because he knows he'll regret it, removes his hand again.

"Just shut up." He growls.

~~~~~~

"I'm telling you, Atsushi!" Kimishita senior enthuses. "If you marry one of the kids from that school-"

"Drop it, Dad!" Kimishita groans, sitting up. They're sitting in the living room in their apartment above the dry-cleaner's. "That'd be a waste of time, and all the kids who go to Seiseki are grade A assholes-"

He thinks, for a moment, of the black-haired forward, and of his new friend, and pauses. Well, maybe not all the kids-

He shakes his head to rid himself of the thought.

"Anyways, why are you ironing the uniform?" He says, less angrily. "You said your arm hurt after ironing all day, you dumb dad."

Kimishita Sr. smiles beatifically, lifting the blazer and shaking it out.

"These is the nicest clothing I've seen in all my 15 years of dry-cleaning." He grins. "Atsushi, normal people can't even wear this kind of clothing to a wedding!"

Kimishita frowns. He feels a twist of guilt in his stomach, but he's not quite sure why.

"Atsushi," His dad continues, still smiling, "consider this kind of designer clothing an inheritance. Be careful when you sit down!" He smooths a hand admiringly down the lapel. "You have to be careful not to get any stains on it!"

Kimishita rolls his eyes and ignores the weird feeling clutching at his chest at the sight of his dad so naively happy.

"This kind of thing belongs to my son." Kimishita sighs happily, pressing his cheek to the shoulder of the blazer, feeling the fabric. "Why would my arm hurt? Your dad's arm doesn't hurt at all!"

Kimishita purses his lips and says nothing.

~~~~~~

Kimishita scrubs the toothbrush along his teeth, glaring at his own reflection in the mirror.

"Fuck." He mutters through the suds, taking the toothbrush out of his mouth. "Screw laying low. I'm not dead yet. I'm a loner one way or another... since they're gonna shit on me anyways..."

His grip on the handle of the toothbrush tightens.

"I'll live by saying the things I need to say."

He points suddenly at his own reflection with the brush, violently.

"F4!" Kimishita shouts, trying not to spray toothpaste all over the mirror. "Starting tomorrow, you're all dead!"

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: thanks for reading, kudos and comments always loved!
> 
> talk to me abt shibakimi on [tumblr!](http://www.serpentinej.tumblr.com)


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